A late summer breeze blows against the tide as I relax in Oliver’s arms here on the stretch of private beach behind his house on Shelter Island. It’s just the two of us on a long weekend together to take a break from the hustle and grind of our lives in the city. It’s unseasonably warm for a September evening, and I contemplate a quick dip in the ocean before the sun sets.

I’m not in a hurry to leave the comfort of Oliver’s arms, though. My back is pressed against his chest, my arm resting on his bent knee as I trace nonsense patterns along the skin above his wrist. I love that we can just sit and be quiet together, especially on nights like these.

It gives me some time to reflect on where I started the summer, and where I’m ending it. I can’t believe it’s only been a few months since I was pining away for Oliver on the roof of that rental just down the road, thinking the two of us were unthinkable. Felicité was just a dream I hadn’t realized yet back then, and now here I am with a brand in the works and practically living with Oliver.

So much can change in no time at all. Just thinking about it sends a thrill racing through me.

“Are you chilly?” Oliver asks, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

“Yeah,” I reply. It’s not because I’m chilly, but because I know Oliver will pull me closer, and rub my arms to warm me up.

He does exactly what I expect him to, and I snuggle in, resting my head against his shoulder. The way we’re situated makes his stubble tickle my cheek, and I realize that over the course of the past few months that it’s a sensation that I’ve come to think of as home.

Everything in my life seems right, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever been this happy.

We brought out a slice of lava cake to split for dessert, and I offer him the second to last bite. When he’s finished chewing, he takes the fork and feeds me what’s left. A drip of chocolate slides down my lip, and Oliver leans in and kisses it away.

“Mmmm,” he hums against my mouth. “You taste good.”

I put the plate to the side and settle back in. Oliver gently rocks me from side to side, and I close my eyes, in danger of falling asleep.

“It’s a lot of work getting a business up and running, isn’t it?”

I blink awake. “Yeah. That and doing double time with the site, trying to keep up with both things. I know I don’t have to, but I want to. And it’s difficult, but it’ll all be worth it once I get to the end of this startup period. I’m just worried I’m gonna die before I get there.”

Oliver laughs, reaching up and massaging the kinks out of my shoulders from too many hours spent hunched at a computer. “You won’t die. And I’m here to help, however you need me to.”

I turn my head and kiss the back of his hand. “You do help, so much. Thank you.”

Oliver nuzzles my neck. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m having a good time this weekend. It’s a nice distraction, and I really needed it.”

“I know,” he says, and I hear the grin in his voice. “We can come out here anytime you want, you know.”

“I know.”

The sun is painting the sky deep oranges and reds, and if I don’t get up and go swimming, I’m going to miss my time. Reluctantly, I extricate myself from Oliver’s arms, then lean down and kiss him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, pouting over the fact that I just broke up our little cuddle session.

“Into the water.”

“I thought you were tired?”

I turn, and shimmy out of my shorts. “I was, but the water will wake me up. And I don’t want this new bikini to go to waste.

That gets his attention.

I play with the hem of my sweater, slowly hiking it up before letting it drop just to tease him.

Oliver just stares.

“I thought you said you wanted to see more of me in a bikini and out of one?”

He stands, licking his lips. He reaches back, grabbing the neck of his shirt and pulling it over his head. The shirt gets tossed into the sand.

Oliver rests his hands on my hips, sliding them around to cup my ass. He sucks the spot right below my ear, then skims his lips along my jawline before he kisses me.

“I do remember saying that, yes.”

I shimmy out of his reach and pull off my sweater, tossing it on top of his discarded shirt. Getting the sand out of it won’t be fun, but it’s totally worth seeing the unabashed lust in Oliver’s eyes.

“Well, now you see me in it. And later, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you get me out of it.”

Oliver playfully growls and runs in my direction. I turn and make a beeline for the surf with him hot on my heels.

“Today was a good day,” I say, gently patting some moisturizer into my skin after washing my face. “Having a private beach is nice. I can’t believe I never thought of it before.”

Oliver’s standing at his sink, grinning at me with a thread of dental floss pinched between his fingers. Apparently I’m a distraction from good oral hygiene.

“Not that it’s my private beach,” I reply quickly, correcting myself when I realize how that came out. “It’s yours. But it’s still nice. You should’ve had one sooner.”

Oliver tosses his floss in the trash. “It’s yours too.”

That admission smacks me right in the chest. I’m not really sure what to say to that, and I don’t have much time to think about it because Oliver walks over with that soft look that he reserves only for me, and he swipes his thumb across my jawline.

“You missed some,” he says, leaning in and kissing that spot.

“Gotta stay moisturized.” My voice is a little shaky. I’ll admit that sometimes my pulse kicks up a couple notches when he lingers like this.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “I like you soft.” He kisses my neck.

“Yeah?”

He nods, sliding his hands down the small of my back. “Oh yeah. This jersey is driving me nuts, by the way. You’re torturing me on purpose, aren’t you?”

I smirk at him. I found his old college baseball jersey in the back of his closet when he was moving things into the beach house. I may have hidden it away for an occasion such as this.

“I didn’t think it would be torture,” I say, running my hands down the front, to where I have an obscene number of buttons unbuttoned. I tease him with a glimpse of what he really wants to see.

He groans, looking like he wants to carry me into the bedroom as soon as possible.

“Oliver Warren, he’s our man. If he can’t do it, no one can!” I cap off my sarcastic cheer with a triumphant fist pump, which accidentally exposes my breasts.

That, apparently, is the end of Oliver’s patience.

He picks me up bridal style, and playfully tosses me onto the bed. He licks his lips when he realizes I’m not wearing any underwear, then unbuttons the few that are still fastened, letting the shirt open and fall to my sides.

He leans down and presses a kiss to my pubic bone. “I like you soft here.” Another along my ribs. “And here.” He rubs his stubble against the underside of my breast—making me giggle—then soothes that away with a gentle flick of his tongue. “This is my favorite spot.”

I shift my hips, wanting to feel him against me, needing some payoff to his teasing. “I’ll do my best to keep those soft for you.”

Oliver grins. “I appreciate that.”

He settles himself between my thighs, and my body ramps up with anticipation.

“You didn’t get enough earlier?” I tease, because we just went two rounds in the shower with Oliver making the best of his crazy core strength and using the Power Spray setting on his shower head for things it definitely wasn’t intended for to give me two mind-blowing orgasms.

“There’s never getting enough of you,” he replies, because he’s the sappiest boyfriend ever.

“Awww,” I say, smiling down at him. Then he leans in and presses his hot, open mouth against me, sending me back against the pillows as I grip fistfuls of comforter in my hands. Oliver moves his tongue in maddeningly slow circles, intermittently sucking and licking the way he’s learned I like in the months that we’ve been together.

As usual, he’s incredibly good at reading my body, knows when to back off to make it last, when to speed up and catch me off guard, making me writhe and moan.

I’m overstimulated from all the sex we’ve already had tonight, so it doesn’t take him long to work me up, and when he slips two fingers inside and curls them just right, my back bows right off the bed.

“Oliver,” I say, all tense, ready to break. He knows what I want, and doubles down on what he’s doing, draping his arm across my hips to steady me so he can concentrate. A few more licks and a gentle scrape of his stubble and I fall to pieces around him, melting into the bed in a boneless, breathless puddle. Oliver works me through the aftershocks, and when I finally come down, Oliver rolls over and crawls up the bed to lie beside me.

“You’re really good at that,” I say, still panting as I toss my arm across my forehead.

Oliver wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, curling around me. “I aim to excel at everything I do.”

I laugh, leaning into his side so I can kiss him. “I didn’t think I would ever in my life say this, but—”

“We’ve had too much sex,” he says, smiling.

“Yes,” I sigh, kissing his shoulder. “I appreciate that you strive for excellence, but...it’s worn me out, my love.”

Oliver laughs, and I feel the rumble of it beneath my ear. We hold each other with steady sound of the waves crashing against the shore as background music, and I draw letters Oliver’s chest to see if he can guess the words.

He’s four for five, completely stumped by pachyderm.

We chat about absolutely nothing as the clock passes midnight, then one, then two. I can’t get enough of talking to him; he’s my favorite person.

When the conversation lulls because we’re both having trouble keeping our eyes open, I rest my hand over Oliver’s beating heart, and he threads our fingers together.

“Will it always be like this?” I ask.

He kisses my forehead. “With us? Yeah.”